


My Reflection in Your Eyes

by Denizen_of_Dreamland



Series: Only Us (Dojima x Maruki) [1]
Category: Persona 4, Persona 5
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Dojima Ryotaro, Drinking to Cope, Drunken Kissing, F/M, First Meetings, Gentle Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of Canonical Het Pairings, Minor Adachi Tohru/Dojima Ryotaro, Persona 4 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Rare Pairings, Self-Esteem Issues, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denizen_of_Dreamland/pseuds/Denizen_of_Dreamland
Summary: After the support for his research was cut off, Takuto Maruki found comfort in alcohol.After his partner got arrested for murder, Ryotaro Dojima found comfort in alcohol.(Briefly titled Sharing a Drink They Call Loneliness, but I changed the title back because I liked it better)
Relationships: Dojima Ryotaro/Maruki Takuto
Series: Only Us (Dojima x Maruki) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778116
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	My Reflection in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This was written using the Psience Lab's [Takuto Maruki Theme Week prompts](https://hellsonlyrose.tumblr.com/post/618542263531945984/takuto-maruki-theme-week)! Of course, when I saw that day 2 was "alcohol", this was the first scenario that came to mind.
> 
> Fair warning, I have no idea how to write drunk people or kisses or pretty much anything in this fic. I tried. Still, I hope you enjoy!

It was night time in Tokyo.

Takuto found comfort in alcohol.

Which was ironic, because had been the designated driver among his friends and coworkers for as long as he could remember, so he had never considered himself a heavy drinker. That is, until he lost Rumi. Not like it mattered anymore, because he was alone now, and he didn’t owe anybody anything. He was just gonna drink, and drink, and drink, until he either passed out or decided to call a taxi and go home. Whichever happened first.

He was drinking to dull the pain, but that quickly proved to be counter-productive. As he sat at the bar, all by himself, in silence, his thoughts just started spiralling out of control, reminding him of every single thing that had gone wrong throughout his life.

Rumi.

Shibusawa.

The college that kicked him out.

The bills. He had to pay the bills.

Concrete evidence.

He needed to read that book on cognitive psience if he wanted his research to get anywhere.

_Remember that day you and Rumi went out to eat with Shibusawa and a bunch of his friends, and you made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone, but you didn’t care because Rumi’s laugh was so beautiful you would’ve done anything to hear it again?_

He wasn’t supposed to love her anymore, so why did he still love her? Why couldn’t he get over her?

He thought about the closure he never got.

The wedding he would never have.

He had pictured it before. His family would be on one side, Rumi’s family would be on the other, and there would be colorful flowers everywhere, decorating the venue. Rumi would wear a beautiful white dress, while he would wear that well-trimmed suit he saw the other day in Shibuya, even though it was way out of his budget, because Rumi deserved only the very best.

Takuto would be broke, but he would happy. More importantly, Rumi would be happy. And their families, too. The couple would exchange vows and kiss and cry of joy, and they would all smile, and cheer, and they would all be happy--

But that was never going to happen.

“Dammit!” Takuto hissed, slamming his fist against the bar.

Then he drank directly from the bottle because, honestly, who gave a single fuck anymore? He didn’t want to think about that. He _couldn’t_ think about that right now. It was a weight on his chest that dragged him down day after day after day after day. He pitied himself because that fantasy was, once, one of his most prized dreams, and he knew how important it was to hold onto dreams in order to stay sane. But that particular dream had been soured. He would never get any sense of wonder from it again. Just misery.

It was fine. It was fine. Rumi was happy now, happier than she would’ve ever been if she had been forced to live the rest of her life under the shadow of her tragedy. So he should just… move on, let go, and stop feeling sorry for himself. He wasn’t the one who suffered, after all.

But it still hurt. Thinking about what could’ve been if only Rumi hadn’t been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Thinking about the future they could’ve had together. Even when it wasn’t about him, like that time he received an invitation to a wedding from one of the other researchers, it hurt.

The day of the wedding, he had felt guilty about not showing up, so he had called her to apologize. He had said he was sick. Sick of being reminded of the happiness he wasn’t allowed to experience, that is. Sick of passing by jewelry stores and being reminded of the ring he had to return.

Sick of his parents demanding an explanation, of having to hear, over and over again, the words “why did Rumi-chan break up with you? She was a good girl, Takuto, why did you have to break her heart like that? I thought you were going to marry her. Weren’t you? She was such a wonderful young lady... What happened, Takuto? I thought we raised you better than this. Just tell us the truth. Why did she break up with you? What did you do to that poor girl, Takuto? What did you do to her? What did you do to her? _What did you do to her?”_

Really, what _did_ he do to her? That was what he would like to know...

Not that it was important, because he’d accept anything as long as it made Rumi happy, but… if he knew, he’d be able to help other trauma victims, to save other people like her. People who’ve become a shadow of their former selves, who have forgotten how to smile, who feel like they don’t have a reason to stay _alive_. If only Takuto knew what did he do-- _how_ did he do it--and could, somehow, replicate the results, then nobody would have to suffer like Rumi did anymore. Everyone would finally be happy.

Of course, he had a theory, based on what happened to Rumi, but he wouldn’t know if he was right for sure until his research was finished.

Takuto sighed. He drank more beer and didn’t wipe off the drop that trailed down his chin.

“Concrete evidence…” He grumbled.

His research, yet another one of his dreams, had just been crushed in mere seconds. All of his hard work, his thorough studying, and his dedication had been discarded like yesterday’s trash just because some stuck-up professor decided that Takuto was crazy and convinced the investors to retract their support too.

_It’s so fucking unfair._

He had never been the kind of guy to take out his frustrations on objects around him, but, _god,_ the whole affair was so infuriating it made him want to punch a wall until the wall broke and his knuckles bled.

What was he supposed to do?

Where was he supposed to go now?

Who was he if he didn’t have his research?

How could he go on living when he couldn’t even follow through with the promise he made to Rumi?

“Dammit. I’m sick of this!” He snapped, flailing his arms around. “I don’t need their support anyways!”

He only realized that he had knocked down his bottle after the deed was done. And not only that. The worst part was that the liquid wasn’t spilling on him, but on the person sitting besides him, a tired-looking middle-aged man who had also been downing beers one after the other like it was the end of the world.

Takuto watched as the yellowish liquid spilled onto the man’s red tie and grey shirt. It dribbled onto his black pants, which absorbed the drink, leaving a dark spot right in middle of his legs. The man could only blink at the scene with something in between shock and fascination, holding his own drink in one hand while doing absolutely nothing to stop what was going on with the other.

In his stupor, Takuto didn’t understand why this was so therapeutic, but one thing was for sure; it felt much better than beating himself up over circumstances he couldn’t change.

Once the bottle was empty, the man finally reacted, as he slowly looked down at the mess that his clothes had become. Something in the way his brows furrowed with pent-up rage told Takuto that he had just spilled his drink on the wrong type of drunk.

“What the hell!?” The man swerved in his seat and locked eyes with Takuto like he was locking his aim on a target. “Wha--? The hell’s wrong with you!?”

Takuto remembered that he should be doing _something_ unless he wanted to get punched to death tonight.

“Uh--I’m sorry!” He put his hands together and bowed aggressively. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, sir! I-I’ll pay for your drinks!”

The suggestion only seemed to anger the man further. “And _now_ you’re apologizing!? Save it. Y’know, you’re not the only one here with problems! You think I couldn’t hear ya mumblin’ on and on about evidence or some shit?”

Crap.

Takuto’s wallet was in his hands faster than was humanly possible. While he was getting yelled at, he started flipping through his bills, trying to calculate how much money he needed to pay to cover up for his mishap. How much did one of those cans of beer cost? Around five hundred yen each? How many cans had this guy drunk? Err… Ten, maybe? Honestly, he had no idea. God, Takuto’s funds were tight enough already, but… Would five thousand yen suffice? Or wasn’t that enough? Maybe he should just dump ten thousand yen and call it a day.

 _You know what, take all my cash, take my credit cards, just take my entire wallet if you need to, but, please,_ **_please_ ** _just shut up about my research--_

“Well, I should know one thing or two about evidence, ‘cause I’m a detective!” The man continued mercilessly. “And damn if it isn’t a pain in the ass half of the time. To hell with their concrete evidence! So what if he didn’t leave fingerprints or if his M.O. doesn’t make sense? He confessed already! He’s a goddamn murderer! What more evidence do they want!?”

Takuto appreciated the passion, but he suspected that the guy was talking about something else entirely…

As much as it physically hurt him, Takuto placed three bills for five thousand yen each on the bar in front of the rambling drunk. For good measure, he added a few coins without bothering to check their denominations.

The man gave the money a disinterested, detached look.

“I-I’m really sorry.” Takuto repeated, praying that he was still sober enough to hold back the tears forming in his eyes. “Please… let me make it up to you… sir.”

“Goddammit, Adachi!” The man exploded like he was at his fucking limit. “Keep your dirty money to yourself!”

Yep, this man was _veeeery_ drunk. But who was Takuto to judge? He would be just as drunk as him after a few more beers.

Thankfully, the man decided to let Takuto go easy. He looked away from him, mumbled something under his breath, and dropped his head onto his hand with a conflicted expression, like he was questioning his life choices. Well, it was fine. He was free to question his life choices as much as he wanted to. Meanwhile, Takuto would put the money back in his wallet, drink more beer, and silently question his _own_ life choices.

He ordered another bottle and drank. He tried to convince himself that he felt annoyed at the interruption, but, to be honest, he was just relieved that the whole ordeal didn’t escalate any further.

God.. He really did get a good scare for a moment. He was lucky that the other guy didn’t get violent. Even though they were both about the same height, the man looked like he had considerably more muscle mass than Takuto. Plus, Takuto was a pacifist! He wouldn’t have known the first thing about fighting, so he wouldn’t have been able to defend himself…

Anyways, it wasn’t as if the man didn’t have a legitimate reason to get mad. It was all Takuto’s fault. He was such a klutz… Why did he always have to go and ruin everything? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Couldn’t even see where he was going… No wonder why Rumi didn’t love him. Who would ever love a screw-up like him?

“Hey, you.” A deep, raspy voice stood out from the background noise. Was the drunkard trying to pick another fight with him?

_Some people just can’t control themselves, can they?_

Takuto pretended he hadn’t heard anything. He took another sip from his bottle.

He felt a strong, steady hand grabbing his shoulder. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Dammit.

Takuto sheepishly looked at the man out of the corner of his eye, afraid to face him head-on. “... Yeah?”

“What’s yer name?”

“Uh… Takuto Maruki.”

Was it a good idea to tell a stranger at a bar his name? It could get dangerous. Takuto didn’t know anything about him, after all. Not to mention that the guy did say he was detective, so he must’ve had access to government information, which meant that he’d be capable of investigating Takuto’s background if he wanted to, going off only by his name. It was a scary thought, knowing that a stranger could research details of his private life whenever he wanted to and Takuto would never find out.

Hold on.

… He had already said his name, didn’t he?

Stupid alcohol. Making him do stupid things he wouldn’t do otherwise.

“Oh. Tak… Tak… uki.” The man nodded with conviction. “Got it.”

No, Takuto didn’t think he had gotten it. But he didn’t bother to correct him. No, he was too drowsy for that. Instead, he quietly played along. It was easier, it wasted less energy, and it communicated the message that Takuto wasn’t a threat; thus, potentially, decreasing the chances of a fight breaking out.

Just kidding, he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. He was just tired.

The man let out another sigh, as he waved his hand. “Name’s Ryotaro Dojima.”

Oh, god, was the guy going to start spouting out his personal problems and his deepest, darkest secrets?

_No, no, please don’t._

Right now, Takuto wouldn’t be able to give any sane or helpful advice. His head felt like it was full of cotton. He couldn’t just blow the guy off, but… In this state, any advice he had could only do more harm than good. If only he had had a business card on him so he could give it to Dojima and be like “You are drunk and I’m drunk, so just come visit me tomorrow”... But he hadn’t planned any of this, so he didn’t have a business card on him, and now he had to sit through whatever this man was going to tell him. Just his luck.

“Y’know, you remind me of my partner.”

Takuto did a double take. “... Huh?”

“Yeah, just like him. Clumsy. Oblivious. Eager to please. Enthu… Enthusiastic, but in an annoying way. Can’t do anything right.”

Takuto wished he could detach himself from the situation, acknowledging that Dojima was simply projecting his feelings towards someone else onto him. But it still hurt, because Takuto knew that all those things are true about him. He was an obnoxious klutz who kept messing up at everything he tried to do, but who didn’t have it in him to give up no matter what.

He’d failed as a person. He’d failed as a researcher and as a boyfriend. He’d failed at life. But giving up wasn’t an option, because giving up would be giving in. Giving in to the cruel reality that had been imposed on him, and on Rumi, and on the entire human race.

In any case, he didn’t need to hear about his negative personality traits from a complete stranger. He was very aware of his own shortcomings, _thank you very much._

He managed to stumble out a response. “T-That’s not nice, Dojima-san.”

“Damn. You even _sound_ like him.” Dojima took a few chugs from his beer and breathed out sharply. “Y’know, we used to go drinking together _aaaall_ the time. We… We were very busy at work, so drinkin’ was the only thing we had to relax. I’d talk to him about my problems, and about my daughter, and about how much I miss my wife, and I always ended up runnin’ my damn mouth and sayin’ shit I’d regret the next morning...” He chuckles bitterly. “Just like now, hmph? Heh, guess old habits die hard.”

Takuto’s bottle was empty again… “Hmm.”

“It was a pain to deal with me, but he never complained. He just sat there in silence and nodded along. Like you. He was an idiot, but he… he was always there for me.” Dojima lets out a long sigh and shakes his head slowly. “I wish I could go back and have a few drinks with him again one last time...”

A spear cut through Takuto’s chest.

God. That wording could only spell tragedy.

At that moment, Takuto was seized by an animalistic urge to know the full story, to explore the intricacies of the man’s past traumas, and to dissect Dojima’s psyche until he could fully understand the depth of the pain that the man was going through.

_No no no. Don’t pry, Takuto, this is none of your business. Not today. Takuto, no, don’t. Don’t do this to yourself, you’re on a break, please don’t ask--_

“What happened to him?”

Crap.

_Sorry, the curiosity was just too much to bear._

“Y-You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He hurriedly added.

Dojima scrunched his nose up in disgust. “Tsk. T’was an act. That bastard turned out to be nothing more than a goddamn murderer. Much smarter than you’d think. Knew what he was doing every step of the way.”

Dojima’s tone was dismissive, like he was trying to be casual about the whole thing, but, truly, there was no way to be casual about something like that. There was a fundamental sorrow in Dojima’s voice, one that betrayed a deep-seated emotional turmoil that constantly loomed over every single thing the man did, seeping through his everyday motions and soaking his cognition of the world around him in pain and tragedy.

Sure, that sounded a bit like an exaggeration. But Takuto knew it wasn’t. He knew that losing someone you care about could literally make the world look a little darker, the future look a little bleaker, and your life feel a little more pointless. It could make it a little harder to get out of bed in the mornings, knowing that there won’t be a cute “rise & shine! <3” text in your phone, or a nice, warm breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen, or a gentle kiss on your cheek before going to work.

When Takuto looked at Dojima’s flushed face, he saw a drunk middle-aged man, _yes_ , but he also saw a lot more than that. He saw a man who’d been downtrodden by the reality he lived in. A man who, despite his unfair life circumstances, continued pushing on and fighting for what he believed in. A broken man who resorted to alcohol to numb his pain because it was too much to bear on his own, but who, at the same time, hadn’t lost the determination to follow his own path.

The kind of man that Takuto aspired to be.

But there was no doubt that he was relying on an unhealthy coping mechanism right now, one that’d eventually have an impact on his personal life, his family, his job, and his physical wellbeing, if it wasn’t already. It’d only cause him more in pain in the long run. Dojima probably knew it too, but, for one reason or another, he felt like he had no other choice than to drink to relieve his pain, if only for a little while.

However…

If Takuto’s research were done, Dojima wouldn’t have had to feel that pain to begin with…

After all, Takuto hadn’t started all of this just for Rumi. He wanted to help everyone who was hurting. People like Dojima, who’d been victims of events that they couldn’t control and who had been stuck in a spiral of pain ever since. And, of course, Dojima’s daughter, and Dojima’s wife, and, _yes,_ even Dojima’s partner. After all, _something_ must’ve caused him to turn to murder, right? So, if Takuto could somehow remove that _something_ using cognitive science, Dojima’s partner would be innocent and harmless, he would be able to live a fulfilling life as a functioning member of society, and they’d be able to go out for drinks again, just like Dojima wanted.

On second thought… That applied to all criminals, not just Dojima’s partner. While most trauma victims weren’t criminals, it _was_ true that a lot of criminals had experienced trauma that desensitized them to the cruelty of their actions. If it were possible to change their cognitions in order to make them realize the error of their ways or, better still, to remove their pain… they might give up crime entirely.

Of course, that didn’t mean that Takuto was trying to justify criminal activity. He _didn’t_ intend to forgive the criminals who murdered Rumi’s parents and who caused her suffering. But… in an ideal world, no one would feel the need to turn to crime in the first place. There’d be no evil in the world. There’d be no victims, because there’d be no perpetrators. Everyone would be happier.

_Everyone._

“What’re you starin’ at me for? You havin’ a seizure or something?”

Ah, there was that legendary raw cop humor he had heard so much about. Or maybe Dojima was genuinely worried that he was having a seizure. Who could tell?

Takuto snapped back to reality. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m fine.”

Dojima smiled, his eyes softened, and he gave Takuto a weird, almost affectionate, look. He drank more beer as if preparing himself for what he was about to say. “... Lemme be blunt.”

Takuto braced himself. “... Okay.”

Dojima pointed at him. “You.”

He clumsily pointed at himself. “Me.”

He put a hand on Takuto’s shoulder, and whispered the next few words. “Make out session. You in?”

If the alcohol hadn’t been slowing down his reaction time, Takuto would’ve choked on his own saliva.

God. What the hell? What was going on? His face heated up and he instinctively held his breath in. Why was Dojima suddenly so close to his face? Make out session? What?

“W-What…!?” He mumbled, backing off.

Dojima also backed off, apparently realizing that he was coming on too strong. He leaned against the bar, looked away from Takuto, and sighed. “Hmph, well... I’ve... not kissed anyone since Chisato died.”

Takuto hadn’t kissed anyone since Rumi...

Dojima cautiously checked him out from a safe distance. “You’re… attractive. You seem like a good guy. And you… remind me of Adachi, who I made the mistake of catchin’ feelings for…”

Takuto was a little flattered by the compliment, he couldn’t deny that...

Dojima raised a brow at the empty bottles in front of him. “And, by the way you’re drinkin’, there’s clearly someone you’re trying to forget too.”

Takuto leaned back in his seat and felt himself going into defensive mode. “I’m not trying to forget. I’m… trying... to _numb my feelings.”_ He said, trying his best to sound composed, sober, and sure of himself.

Dojima just gave him an unimpressed look. “Same shit.”

 _No it’s not,_ Takuto thought on reflex, but he knew better than to start arguing with some guy at a bar. He might’ve been drunk and miserable, but he wasn’t a _masochist_. He didn’t _enjoy_ pain. He didn’t _enjoy_ getting drunk at bars and getting into arguments with men who could probably take him down within two seconds with their hands tied behind their backs.

Still, Takuto turned towards Dojima, the curiosity fully winning him over, and started to consider the offer seriously. He couldn’t help it. He was very intrigued by the suggestion.

Takuto had never been into men, but he had never really been opposed the idea either. It was more like… he never saw them that way because he never expected to see them that way. He had been perfectly happy with women up until now. Or, more specifically, he had been happy with Rumi. They met at a relatively young age, so, admittedly, it _had_ been a while since Takuto had last been on the lookout for potential romantic partners, whether male or female.

But, now that he thought about it… Dojima _was_ pretty attractive.

The idea of kissing him suddenly seemed very tempting. Whether it was due to the atmosphere of this place or to the fact that Takuto was starved of affection was irrelevant. He had nothing left to lose, after all. Except, maybe, his own life. Still, he was inclined to believe that Dojima wasn’t a murderer, even if he was just putting his trust on him blindly.

“Stop staring at me like that and make up your damn mind!” Dojima snapped. “If you don’t wanna do anythin’, then just say it! Y’know, I’m not gonna get mad at you or do somethin’ you don’t want to. Tell me, do I look like some kinda thug?”

Takuto blinked. Well, the man certainly had a temper… But not everyone with a temper is a criminal. In fact, Dojima’s temper might’ve just be a manifestation of his inner emotional struggles.

“No, no, it’s not that, but… won’t this complicate things?”

Dojima shook his head. “I ain’t from the city. You’ll never have to see me again. And no one will know. It’ll just be a one night thing, ‘cause we both need some company. So? You in?”

It was a big decision.

Takuto had three options; one, he could say no and stay at the bar, spending the rest of the night drinking and wallowing in self-pity; two, he could say no and leave the bar, spending the rest of the night alone and wallowing in self-pity; or, three, he could say yes and go make out with Dojima, a strong, attractive man who understood his pain better than anyone else.

If he went along with it, he could just let go of his worries and relax for a while. Be a little selfish for once. Prove to himself that he had moved on from Rumi.

And even if that didn’t work… at least, it’d make Dojima happy.

“Do it.” Takuto leaned forward and almost lost his balance, but he caught himself right before he fell onto Dojima’s lap. “Let’s do it. I’m all yours tonight, Dojima-san!”

“Not so loud, _dumbass_.” Dojima grabbed Takuto’s arm with a firm grip, stood up, and pulled him up alongside him.

Aaaaand, just like that, Takuto was starting to doubt his decision. Hmm. That was a personal record.

What was he getting into, anyway? What if he regretted it? What if Dojima was too rough? What if Takuto couldn’t handle the guy’s brusqueness? What if he didn’t enjoy it as much as Dojima had promised?

Well, he would find out soon enough.

He must’ve blanked out for a second, because, the next thing he knew, Dojima was paying for both Takuto’s bill and his own.

He then glanced over his shoulders like he was on an undercover mission. “C’mon, follow me.”

Takuto was not going to back out now, so he followed Dojima and tried not to stumble on his way. The detective led him outside and found a lone, dark, and, frankly, quite sketchy spot, hidden from the public eye.

Takuto briefly re-evaluated his stance on Dojima being a murderer. For all he knew, Dojima could be some kind of crazy serial killer who targeted miserable grown men at bars for a quick thrill and then left their bodies rotting in some lonely back alley. What if Takuto became a victim of a case like that?

_If I die now, my research dies with me._

…

…

...

Fuck.

Why hadn’t he thought of that before!? That changed everything! Now all he could do was pray that Dojima didn’t kill him while he had the chance. God, why had he gotten himself into this?

“So… um…” Dojima said. “How do you… wanna go about this?”

_Please, I’m just a lowly researcher, I have nothing to offer, please go easy on me--wait, what?_

Dojima’s attentiveness came as a bit of a surprise. Even if he wasn’t a serial killer, Takuto had fully expected an aggressive, tough guy like him to just pin him up against the wall and dive right in without any regard for Takuto’s feelings, like in some kind of toxic romance movie. But he was glad that that wasn’t the case.

Maybe he actually _would_ get some enjoyment out of this. Maybe he hadn’t completely deluded himself when he had convinced himself to go along with this.

“I dunno.” Takuto leaned against the wall for stability. “I’ve… never done anything like this with a man.”

“‘S fine. Just tell me to stop if you change your mind.”

He walked towards Takuto, stumbled like he was about to fall on his face, but didn’t, and put his hand on the brick wall, next to Takuto’s shoulder, presumably to keep his balance as well. He examined Takuto’s face with a dazed expression.

His brow twitched. “You seem young.”

It was a simple statement, but Takuto knew the implications behind it. “Uh--don’t worry.” He chuckled. “I’m older than I look.”

“Good to know.” Dojima reached out with his free hand and ran the tips of his fingers along Takuto’s temple. He poked his cheek with two fingers. “Your skin’s so soft…”

It was embarrassing how easily a single compliment made Takuto’s heart skip a beat, but it did. It made him feel… special. The fact that Dojima was taking the time to scan his face and notice both the little details and the big picture was really endearing. It made him feel like Dojima had truly meant what he had said, and that he wasn’t here just to get a quick dose of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin. It made him feel that, even if only to a small extent, Dojima did care about him.

For his part, Takuto didn’t mind staring into Dojima’s grey eyes for as long as as it was necessary. Taking it slow made him more comfortable.

Dojima placed his hand on Takuto’s jaw and pushed it softly, angling his head slightly to one side. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Takuto’s, before pulling back almost immediately. “Um… Was that alright? I just… I just wanna make sure you’re fine with this.”

How had the hot-blooded man that Takuto had met at the bar suddenly turned so awkward and gentle just at the prospect of making out with him?

… And why was it so adorable!?

Takuto gave Dojima a peck on the lips. “It was perfect.”

At that, Dojima seemed to zone out for a few seconds, before staring at Takuto with something akin to incredulity. “... Seriously? Are you… Are you kidding me?” He burst into laughter. “That’s so… that’s so goddamn cliché!”

Dojima’s laughter was so contagious that Takuto soon found himself laughing as well, burying his face into Dojima’s chest to try and regain his composure. “I know, I know, that was embarrassing! I just _\--snrk!--_ I just can’t come up with anything original right now.”

While he continued chuckling against the grey shirt, he felt Dojima wrapping an arm around his waist and placing a kiss on top of his head. His breath hitched at the touch. It had just been so long since he’d been touched like that… And, damn, it felt like heaven. He hadn’t known how much he missed between held between someone else’s arms like this until now.

It made him feel safe. Secure. Protected. Wanted.

Dojima’s arms were strong and warm... The way in which he gently ran his hand through his hair, how he placed a kiss on top of his head, and how he dug his fingers into Takuto’s side, as if afraid of letting him go, made him feel loved. Dojima was great at this, even if he was clumsy due to the alcohol. It was clear that he was a man with a lot of love to give but no one to give it to.

It was heartbreaking. Especially considering how many people need love but have no one to give it to them...

Then again, it seemed like Dojima was also one of those people.

Takuto wanted Dojima to receive the love he deserved. The happiness he’d been robbed of. And so, feeling bolder, he lifted his head and went in for another kiss.

Dojima made a pleased noise and returned the kiss. They exchanged a few more chaste kisses before Dojima opened his mouth and sloppily slipped his tongue in.

It was intoxicating.

At first, Takuto was worried that he would get everything wrong due to lack of practice, but, once he found a comfortable position, he quickly got back into the swing of things. The taste of cigarettes in Dojima’s mouth was nauseating, and the stubble prickled his face uncomfortably, but Takuto didn’t care. His craving to feel loved, needed, and cared for surpassed any reservations he still had by far.

He wanted a reassurance that he wasn’t alone in his struggles. That other people out there understood his pain, even if they didn’t know what he was going through. He needed a reminder that his life wasn’t just a constant string of disappointments. That, no matter how many times he failed, there was always something to look forward to.

Takuto started caressing the corners of Dojima’s ear and massaging his temple. Rumi used to like it when he did that. Would Dojima like it too…?

Takuto closed his eyes and let his worries fade into the background.

_You are right. I want to forget, if only for a while._

And, for a moment, Takuto was blissfully happy.

Where was the wrong in that?

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: This was originally supposed to have a much more depressing ending. But when I got to that point, the story was practically writing itself, so my plans (thankfully) fell through.
> 
> Honestly, I’m not satisfied at all with how this fic came out. But I put a lot of time and effort into it, so might as well post it, right? In my defense, I’m severely sleep-deprived!
> 
> I think Maruki comes across as kinda irritable in here? He’s a really complex character and I’m trying to wrap my head around how to write him, so I’m sorry if he's off. I don’t think Dojima’s well-written either, but hopefully it’s not as noticeable since it’s not from his POV.
> 
> I dunno. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://denizen-of-dreamland.tumblr.com)


End file.
